


Safe

by sebacielfantasies



Category: Kuroshitsuji | Black Butler
Genre: Late night cuddles, M/M, Movie Night, SebaCiel - Freeform, ciel is a demon, gets a little deep idk, modern time, post season two, there's fluff too
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-16
Updated: 2016-02-16
Packaged: 2018-05-21 01:12:20
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,727
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6032686
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sebacielfantasies/pseuds/sebacielfantasies
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ciel and Sebastian have a movie night.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Safe

When Ciel first turned into a demon, he didn't quite know what to expect.

In the days following his transformation, he'd imagined many things. Him and Sebastian, bickering for eternity. Him and Sebastian, feasting on souls side by side. Him and Sebastian, watching the people around them wither and rot and die.

What he doesn't expect is him and Sebastian, curled up on the couch in their tiny apartment, watching a movie.

It's not like the first things didn't happen. They did, and they still do. He just didn't think about what they would do _after_  those things.

"Sebastian, are you trying to crush me? Move over."

"Sorry, my lord," the elder demon says, but he sounds nothing but amused. He shifts over, and Ciel is grateful for the much needed space. Their hands remain entwined, black nailed fingers touching.

"What are we watching this time?" says Ciel. He turns his head to send Sebastian a glare. "I swear, it better not be anything like the last movie." Last week they'd watched the _Notebook,_ much to Ciel's irritation. Didn't he already have enough tragedy in his life?

"No need to fret," Sebastian smirks, "I believe this week I snatched up something along the horror genre."

"Horror?" Ciel's eyes widen ever so slightly, "Isn't our life already like a horror film? Why do we need more? And besides, it's easy to tell how fake the monsters are, it's not even scary."

"Is that so? I seem to recall that last time we watched a scary movie, you were holding my hand fairly tight . . . Was that not out of fear?"

"I . . . You damn demon, shut up!"

"My lord," hushes Sebastian, clicking a button on the remote to press play, "please, do be quiet. Can't you see we're supposed to be watching a movie?"

Years later—centuries, even—and Sebastian has never ceased his teasing. Ciel sighs, too bothered to even try arguing with this idiot, and reaches for his fuzzy blue blanket. As a demon, he no longer feels hot and cold like a human, but there's some human habits he simply won't throw away.

The TV screen flickers to life, and Ciel's gaze is pulled to it. Ebony hair tickles his face as Sebastian leans forward, and a slim arm tightens around his torso.

Like the beginnings of all movies, it's boring and dull, so Ciel looks to his former butler for company while he waits for the good parts to start. "Sebastian, what are tomorrow's dinner preparations?"

"Hm, well, what did you have in mind?" says Sebastian. "The possibilities are endless, after all."

After thinking for a moment, he's decided. "The boy we ran into on the way to the store," he says. "The one that looked like he came from the slums, what with the rags he had on. We'll share him."

Sebastian presses a frown to Ciel's throat; the curve of his silky sweet lips on the boy's skin is addictive, like a drug. "You know his soul wasn't a fine one. He'd taste about as good as chopped liver does to a human. Master, you're not choosing our meal based purely on emotions alone, are you?"

There's a scream from a person on the screen—the decent parts have finally come to play—but neither of them look over.

Ciel wants to say that yes, he is, because that boy laughed at their conjoined hands and spat out words that were dirty enough to need a good rinse of soap. What's the point in having this power if Ciel can't wield it to his advantage?

"No," he chooses to say instead, "I just want it to be him. I thought I told you not to question my orders?"

"Of course," Sebastian says, and the loyalty is ever present in his voice, like always. "I apologize if I offended you. I was merely trying to point out that our meal could be much more satisfying than this, that's all."

"I don't care. Does it have to be a perfect meal every time? You're too picky, Sebastian."

In all honesty, Ciel just wants a reason. Killing human beings is easier when there's a reason, no matter how small, for doing so. On the other hand, killing an innocent—even one with a mouthwatering soul—is much harder.

"Indeed," says Sebastian. "Why else would I pine so long after a soul such as yours?"

"Too bad you can't have it," Ciel says, a smile quirking his lips. "And you never will."

"Maybe not, but . . ." Lips caress the shell of his ear, unnaturally soft. The voice that echoes is melted chocolate, inviting and tempting. Ciel knows that in reality the chocolate tastes only bitter. "I still captured your heart, did I not?"

The tips of Ciel's ears redden. "Possibly," he mumbles, but they both know the truth. He faces toward the TV again, playing idly with Sebastian's long fingers.  


Wordlessly they watch the movie, settled within each other's arms. The killer in the movie appears, ax in hand, but neither flinches.

Neither flinches, that is, until the cat slinks onto the screen.

Sebastian recoils as if slapped; his eyes gape at the TV, at the unsuspecting kitten and the murderer not far behind it. "Wait, no, he can't be thinking about . . ."

"Oh, he's doing more than just thinking about it," Ciel says, laughing under his breath. The killer raises the ax up over the small kitten, but Ciel doesn't react. He'd never liked cats, anyway. Meanwhile, Sebastian looks as if he's being stabbed.

"Does he have no heart?" Sebastian outstretches a hand, as if to pull the kitten out of the movie and into the safety of his arms. "And I thought demons were cruel . . ."

"It's just a movie, remember? The cat isn't actually going to die . . ." But Sebastian's expression doesn't waver. Ciel sighs. _How can you honestly call yourself a demon?_ With a roll of the eyes, he raises his hands and covers the butler's eyes with them, preventing him from seeing the ax go down. "There, is that better?"

"The kitten," he says quietly, "I can hear it . . . mewing . . . Is it . . . ?"

Ciel glances over to the movie to see quite a bit of blood and what looks like butchered kitten. He frowns. How is it even still alive to _make_ that noise?

Sighing, he pulls away from Sebastian to grab the remote and turn off the television. The screen fades to black and the cat cries cease, which Sebastian takes as his cue to cautiously open his eyes.

"Happy now?" Ciel glares at him. "You've ruined movie night, moron."

"I'm sorry, but that's just not right." He shakes his head. "I refuse to watch a movie with kitten abuse. I simply won't allow it."

Ciel snorts. "And you thought _I'd_ be the scared one? Ridiculous."

Mouth creased into a thin line, the elder demon's silent, which Ciel takes as a sign of defeat.

A heartbeat of silence later, he takes Sebastian's hand again. There's nothing special about his hands, especially since demons have no body heat, but there's still something about them that he can't ignore. Perhaps the familiarity?

Sebastian's eyes find his, amused. "Can't keep your hands to yourself, can you?"

"One more word from you and I'll cut yours off, Sebastian." The threat is empty, though, as empty as the butler's laugh.

Ciel looks out the window, and, seeing the moon glowing through, feels his heart twist. Once, a shining moon meant it was time to go to bed. Now it means nothing; it's as meaningless as the concept of sleep itself.

But he still misses it. So he curls up into Sebastian's side, bundled in his blanket like the child he once was, and whispers, "Don't you ever wish you could sleep?"

"Sleep?" Sebastian's voice reeks of disdain, but he humors the young demon. "Why would I want that? Without the burden of having to sleep, one is far less limited. As a Phantomhive servant, that advantage always did me well."

Ciel closes his eyes, then, and he can almost imagine he's dreaming this way. "I miss sleep. I miss it a lot."

"Master, if you don't mind my asking, why do you? As I recall, sleep seemed to bring you nothing but nightmares as a human. Why would you want that back?"

"The memories," he confesses, and wraps his hand tight around his blankets, tight enough for his knuckles to whiten. "When dreaming, I was remembering. They were bad memories, yes—but they didn't let me forget."

These days, his memories were slipping. It's a blessing to forget the raw pain he felt when in the hands at the cult—but at the same time it's a curse, for now Ciel can't remember the exact shade of green in Elizabeth's eyes, or the way his mother's hand felt as it ran through his hair.

All he knows now is the demon at his side. There's nothing else left for him; there's never been anything else.

Sebastian's fingers lift up towards his. "If memories are what you're worried about, we can always make new ones." His other hand comes up to Ciel's cheek, stroking the delicate skin. "That is the way of immortality, I'm afraid. As you make new memories, old ones will fade. It is inevitable."

Ciel's body relaxes under the demon's touch, as ridiculous as it might have once sounded. The man who was to be his killer is his only protection now, and he can't help but feel safe. He can't help but _know_ he's safe, what with the contract binding them together.

"My lord," Sebastian says, "even if you can no longer sleep, that does not mean you can't rest. So rest, and remember I will always be here, at your side. The memories may fade, but I will do anything but."

Ciel does as he suggests. He snuggles into the other's torso, and Sebastian plays with his hair, a soothing gesture. Fingers flit over his closed eyelids, his closed eyes that are closed not in sleep but in rest.

He rests, and he thinks about how in a hundred years time—which will surely pass in the blink of an eye—he will remember not the color of his old fiancee's eyes, but the way his demon butler felt in the darkness, as familiar as a distant memory.


End file.
